


Brand New Scars

by trespresh



Series: I'm Half-Doomed, You're Semi-Sweet [10]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Couch Cuddles, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of the Rogues, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trespresh/pseuds/trespresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was some world-weary disappointment weighing on his chest that reminded him—to the rest of the world, they are enemies. No matter how tenderly Len traces the skin of his wrist or how comfortable and warm he feels when pressed tight to Len’s side, they have a show to put on for everyone but each other.</p>
<p>He’d been sincere when he’d said, <i>“It’s in the job description.” </i></p>
<p>(In which both Barry and Len recover from the Rogues' attack on the Flash.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brand New Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissSugarPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/gifts).



> I hope everyone had a lovely, relaxing holiday, and that your families didn't drive you _too_ crazy.
> 
> Have I ever mentioned that MissSugarPlum is the best? Because she is. Massive thank you to her for calming my anxiety about this fic and the one that's coming up next--without her, this series would be so far from smooth-sailing. <3
> 
> Characters don't belong to me (sad), title belongs to Panic! At The Disco.

It’s that same afternoon—when the bruises on Barry’s stomach and arms are still yellow-blue, the frostbite on his cheeks a dingy, dirty grey—that Barry notices the way Len’s demeanor shifts.

His voice is soft and almost hesitant, his fingertips never leaving Barry’s skin though he hustles Barry aside and cooks him a full breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. When they settle on the small couch in Len’s living room later, he holds his arm out expectantly, allowing Barry to tuck himself into the warmth of Len’s side.

And the real kicker comes when Len encourages Barry to choose what to watch on Netflix, and he doesn’t even complain when Barry settles on some ridiculous documentary. Barry knows what Len is trying to do, understands the guilt that weighs on Len despite the lack of anger from Barry. He can see the heavy responsibility in Len’s eyes when he takes in the light bruising on Barry’s skin.

Really, Barry wasn’t angry with Len. Confused as all hell when he’d woken up at S.T.A.R. Labs that morning, sure; body aching and his heart a little sore, of course. But he hadn’t been upset with Len. There was some world-weary disappointment weighing on his chest that reminded him—to the rest of the world, they are enemies. No matter how tenderly Len traces the skin of his wrist or how comfortable and warm he feels when pressed tight to Len’s side, they have a show to put on for everyone but each other.

The Flash and Captain Cold fight; they bicker and get in one another’s way, and they do what it takes to get a leg up on the other. They aim to hurt.

He’d been sincere when he’d said, _“It’s in the job description.”_ He hadn’t been expecting the horror in Len’s expression after seeing the full extent of Barry’s damaged body, nor the fierceness that colored Len’s voice when he promised the Flash’s safety against the Rogues, but he’d be lying if he denied the warmth that bubbled in his stomach at Len’s obvious protectiveness.

So he doesn’t blame Len, but he’s not anxious to turn down tender treatment from the other; he burrows down under Len’s arm and they doze comfortably while the nature documentary plays quietly on the television.

(And if Len wants to wake him up a few hours later with nimble fingers reaching into Barry’s boxers, Len shifting to get down onto his knees in front of Barry, well. Who is Barry to say no?)

+

A couple days pass since the Rogues took down the Flash, and there’s no sign of the damage from Mardon’s hail or Len’s Cold Gun left on Barry’s body. Len’s grateful.

He hasn’t let the Rogues near Barry since. He’d even gone so far as to demand they lay low after pulling off such a big heist, and none of them, not Mardon nor Shawna, Hartley or the Tricksters, had objected, merely happy to appreciate the new, multimillion dollar sums in their bank accounts in their own ways.

The Tricksters had bought a new lair—some dirty old warehouse in the outreaches of Central where they won’t be bothered while finding new ways to wreak havoc on the city. Len’s not exactly sure what Hartley did with his share; the kid had mumbled something about “new tech” and “hearing aids” before disappearing for a few days, which was fine by Len. He’s learned the hard way Hartley is really only tolerable in small bursts; he’s got an ego he hasn’t earned, and it makes Len want to freeze the ever-permanent smirk off his face. As for Mardon and Shawna, he’s pretty sure they took off somewhere together—“a really nice, private island in the Caribbean” was as far as Shawna had gotten before Len held up a hand to stop her from oversharing.

Lisa had merely wanted to keep one of the diamonds for herself in lieu of a financial share, and Mick bought himself a new lighter. (Three million dollars, and Mick buys a lighter. Plated in pure gold, sure, but a lighter nonetheless.) Len appreciates them both for their simplicity.

And Len? He goes grocery shopping so that when Barry comes over, the cupboards and fridge are stocked with all of his favorites.

It’s not enough and it doesn’t make everything up to Barry, but the way he grins at Len and piles a plate high with turkey sandwiches and lasagna, grapes and pickles and a ridiculous amount of those little peanut butter cookies he loves so much, well.

If nothing else, at least Len knows he can’t break Barry’s stomach.

+

At first, the tentative but worshipping touches are great. The past few days, he’s been bombarded with freshly-baked desserts and more blowjobs than he’d received during the entirety of his teenage years. Really, he’s not complaining.

It’s just.

Something about the way Len seems scared of hurting Barry irks him. Things are too _easy_ , now; there’s no challenge left to their relationship. Barry actually sort of misses the roguish teasing and the near-painful grip of Len’s hands on his hips. Len’s fingers are hesitant on his skin, his voice soft and agreeable as if Barry’s _not_ a meta-human vigilante who can kick Len’s ass in a fight. As if Len has forgotten that Barry is perfectly capable of handling a little banter and any antagonism Len can throw at him.

As if Len has snapped on the kid gloves like Barry’s life depends on it.

+

The final straw comes nearly a week after Barry’s bruises heal.

He’s patrolling the city on a slow, sunny afternoon when Cisco’s voice crackles through the comm.

“Cold’s robbing King Jewelers off of 3rd and Main. Cops aren’t there yet, you might want to get over there.”

Barry rolls his eyes and zips off, flicking the comm off after affirming Cisco’s alert.

“Didn’t you get _enough_ diamonds last week?” He barks when he skids to a stop in the small but swanky jewelry store. Barry takes a millisecond to glance around; the clerks are nowhere to be seen—no doubt taking cover in a back room—and the multiple cameras situated throughout the store seem to be disabled. Barry vaguely wonders why Len bothers to kill the cameras when the police already know it’s him, but he appreciates it nonetheless and pulls the cowl back.

Len freezes, turning to him. A gold necklace with emerald inlets dangles from his fist. His free hand twitches toward the Cold Gun at his hip—clearly from habit, because he jerks his hand away after a moment as though burned.

“It’s Lisa’s birthday next week,” he mutters, nodding toward the necklace. His eyes are wide in a way that almost looks—apologetic?—and he stares over at Barry, a conflicted frown twisting his lips. “But—no. You’re right. I’ll buy her something instead,” he says quietly.

Barry stares in disbelief as Len carefully lays the necklace back into its glass display case. He turns on his heel toward the door.

“I— _what_?” Barry sputters before he can stop himself. “Since when does Cold change his mind about stealing something?”

Len doesn’t say anything, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed as he looks at Barry.

“Seriously, Len. _Enough_ ,” Barry says in annoyance. “This isn’t you.”

“So, what? You’re asking me to steal it?” Len says lowly. “Let it go, Barry. I’m only looking out for you.” It’s the tiny hint of irritation in his voice that tells Barry he’s not exactly happy about leaving empty handed.

Barry huffs. “Well, don’t. I’m sick of you treating me like I’m some fragile kid.”

“Barry—”

“No, I’m serious,” Barry interrupts. “Listen. I know you’ve felt guilty, and I’m so _not_ upset about all the blowjobs,” (Len’s smirk should be illegal, _honestly_ ) “but you can stop feeling like you need to make anything up to me. I’m fine, so can we just move on? _Please_?”

Len studies him silently for a moment, icy eyes flickering over his face and down his red-clad frame. Cold’s cocky smirk inches across Len’s lips, and with a few long strides, he’s in front of Barry. There’s no hesitation in the way Len grabs his chin, bringing him in for a hard kiss; he pulls away after just a moment and chuckles in the glow of Barry’s pleased grin.

“Alright. To moving on.” He tips his head and, quick as a snake, he flits back to grab the necklace from its protective case again. He drops it into the pocket of the parka on his way toward the door.

Barry’s relieved to have his Len back, and knowing the CCPD will reimburse the small store for the stolen necklace alleviates the guilt of allowing Len to take it.

Barry can’t help the happy laugh that bubbles from his chest and he calls, “You better put my name on the birthday card!” as Len ducks out the front door.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say a huge thank you to all of you, who read, kudos, comment, and all-around just support this series. I'm so flattered and in love with every one of you, thank you. x


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